Sober
by PoeticBrunette
Summary: She's safe up high, nothing can catch her. Then why does she feel the party's over?


**A/N** My first try at writing about Leah. She is one of the most tragical (if not _the_ most tragical) character of Twilight. I imagined how would she cope with the pain after everyone else has imprinted and she was left alone.

I'm not sure how good or bad this is, but I hope I'll get some reviews.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Twilight or any of its characters. I just like playing with them.

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_I don't wanna be the girl who has to fill the silence...  
The quiet scares me 'cause it screams the truth  
Please don't tell me that we had that conversation  
When I won't remember, save your breath, 'cause what's the use?_

-

"Oh, great. Here's the party crasher." someone's voice echoed in her head.

As usual, that or similar sentences were the first thing she would hear whenever she phased. Always the mood ruiner. Always the hated, resented one.

She laughed at the opinion, once again pretending she didn't care. She thought about some stupid stuff while phased. Trying to annoy them.

Not once did she think of her feelings. They were all bottled up and were released only when she was alone. Which was rare. She was always with someone. Being in the same room with herself scared her.

So, instead of sorting things out with her demons she was partying. And that means drinking, actually.

Drinking a lot. Too much, even for a werewolf. That was the only way she knew to escape the pain that crept upon her heart every now and then and the only way out.

Out of emptiness. And into nothingness.

Because when she is _empty_ she knows she can be filled. And every passing second feels like a waste of time, but she can't help it. She doesn't know how to help it.

Because she's alone. Because she wants it that way.

And _nothing_ is good. Comforting, lulling, sucking her deep inside the black hole. And she's nothing, she can't be helped. She knows nothing can make her better, she is aware of the fact that no one cares.

That's better than when they care. Much better.

They don't notice her, her pain. And when they don't notice, she doesn't either. After a while it all becomes a routine. She ignores everything and does what she knows she should.

They don't offer help. She thanks them silently.

And when the lights go out she's alone. And trying to escape. Because being with herself is painful. It reminds her of how much she had. And how much she lost.

Much more than she had. Much more than she'll ever have.

Because she gave up.

Now, the night falls on the town. No one's out. Only her. It's always only her.

Sitting in a far corner of some crappy bar, the smoke circling around her, filling her nostrils and making her want to vomit. But she holds it back.

A bottle in her hand. It's the fifth for the night. And she hasn't even started yet.

Guy from the other corner is staring at her. She knows the look. Seen it so many times before. And gave in.

She knows she will tonight, too.

He approaches, saying something she doesn't hear. She doesn't want to hear.

Occasionally she smiles. A weak, fake smile that disappears from her lips quicker than it appears.

She still sits there, not listening. And then he moves towards her, slipping his hand up her tight.

She catches it and moves towards him, kissing his lips. He smells of cigarettes. She doesn't have the strength to care.

The alcohol helps a lot, too.

So they go. He walks ahead of her, towards his car. She follows not really paying attention to where she goes. She just goes. Knowing she'll forget for a few hours.

But it will be harder tomorrow. It's harder every time.

And she'll do the same thing. She knows that, too. Everyone knows it.

She's in his car now. He's saying something about his apartment. She guessed that's where they are headed to. And she's right.

Parking in front of the building he goes out. She gets out immediately, not allowing him to be the gentleman. Like he would try.

In the elevator he is behind her, his hands on her hips, smelly breath turning her insides with disgust.

When they're in he unlocks the door. She walks inside.

As soon as the door is closed again, he comes from behind her and lifts her shirt up. She allows him, lifting her arms in the air to help. Her dignity, or whatever was left of it, falls away with the last piece of her clothing.

His hands and mouth are all over her as he thrusts in and out. She's moaning loudly. He bites at her neck, her nipple. She bites back.

She likes it rough. And when he slaps her across her face she comes harder than ever. Still moving inside her, he comes too - shouting every bad name in the book, calling her a slut, bitch, whore...

She likes it. She always loved being rough, liked guys that were rough with her. She deserved the pain and the stinging in her cheek, the soreness in her body.

The hate and shame and disgust after it helped her forget about the pain.

Forget about him. 'Cause she compared every guy to him. And told herself they were so much better. In vain, though.

Because she knew the truth. Because she loved a guy. Long ago.

And he left her. He found the _perfect_ mate, his _perfect_ match. And she was _perfect_.

Why couldn't she be perfect? What was wrong with her?

Getting out of his apartment, without saying goodbye (what was the point?), she burst into an animal. Into her other self. _The beast._

She hated the beast. The beast inside her took him away. The beast inside her made her watch him with other woman every day.

But she loved the beast she was, too. It made her stronger, it gave her the possibility to run away. When the pain crushed upon her, the wolf was there to hold the weight of it.

A loud, broken, painful howl erupted through the abandoned woods. She sprints towards the sea. She's at the edge of the cliff now. And even though she knows it won't kill her, she never gets tired of trying.

Jumping was relaxing. But it didn't take the pain away. Not even this time.

_When will it go away? _she wonders. _Will it ever?_

She's sober now. The numbness of the alcohol fading away quickly. And the pain took over. She lies there, on the beach, wind blowing all around her.

She doesn't notice the cold. Her heart is an ice berg. She's frozen.

-

She wakes up. The light blinds her eyes and she can't see. Disoriented, she lies there for awhile.

Voices. They are calling her. Looking for her.

Why, what's the point?

Getting up slowly she turns into a wolf again. Her clothes are a pile of shredded material somewhere.

The voices are louder. They noticed her. She howls and runs away. They don't chase her. They don't care that much.

They never do.

Never did.


End file.
